


Plan B

by BJackson



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Comedy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BJackson/pseuds/BJackson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sam develops an unexpected case of appendicitis and Ziggy gets a virus, he enlists Al's help in solving his latest leap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

    Leaping through time felt a bit like flying, when Sam thought about it. Once he put right whatever went wrong in someone's life, he found himself being launched forward, catapulted through a quantum void, past decades of births and deaths and earth-shatterings and minutias, until he landed, sometimes roughly, in someone else's shoes. As he began to take form in whatever time he'd landed in now, that flying sensation didn't go away. In fact, the more aware of his surroundings he became, the more acute that sensation was. The wind was blowing his hair back from the sheer speed of which he was being propelled ahead, but once he got his bearings, a sense of giddiness came over him. This was actually kind of fun! He began to slow down as he moved upward, giving him time to look down at the bar holding him in place.   
  
    Then he dropped.  
  
    A small handful of people joined in Sam's terrified shriek as they came hurtling down a track and toward the ground, eventually slowing and clacking to a merciful stop. A panting Sam was clinging to the bar in front of him as if it were his last hope, his knuckles turning pale. "Oh boy..." he whispered.  
  
    "Oh wow!" exclaimed the girl next to him as she stood up, "Alex, I wish you could see your face! That really scared ya good!" She was in her early teens, if that, slightly chubby, with curly red hair in pigtails. Slapping Sam on the shoulder, she let out a deep chuckle and jumped out of their cart. Somehow, Sam managed to extricate himself from his seat and hobble his wobbly legs after her.   
      
    As he was walking, Sam twisted around to see what hellish ride he'd just been on. There sat an old, wooden rollercoaster, navy blue and proudly labeled "The Screamer" in wiggly green lettering. Cute. He glanced skyward and silently cursed his leap's terrible timing. Why did he always have to leap in when something frightening or awkward was happening? Why couldn't he just leap into a nice, warm bed with everything he needed laid out for him? Was that so much to ask?  
  
    Swiveling his head around, he took in the rest of his surroundings. He was at a fair, on a busy day it seemed like, as people bustled by and laughed and ate cotton candy. The smell of popcorn clung to the air, and Sam felt his stomach growl. Swell. Now he was nauseous _and_ hungry. But maybe that was leftover wooziness from the leap-in. He wondered if there was some rule about waiting thirty minutes after a leap to eat.   
  
    "Hey Alex, you coming?" It was the girl from before. She was walking backwards as she called to Sam from up ahead, her arms outspread questioningly. That confirmed that he must be Alex.   
  
    "Uh, yeah, wait up!" Sam called as he jogged to catch up to her.   
  
    "You feeling okay?" asked the girl as she spun to face forward, "I've never seen you flip your wig like that on The Screamer before!"   
  
    "Me? Oh, I'm fine," Sam said with a reassuring smile, "I just--I guess my stomach's not as strong as it used to be." He could only assume this was a fair Alex and this girl had visited in the past.  
  
    She gave him a confused look. "What're you talking about? We just rode it yesterday!" Before Sam could stumble into much of a response, she was distracted by a booth. Pointing excitedly, she ran toward it and exclaimed, "Far out!"  
  
    "Hey, wait up!" Sam called out as he rushed to catch up to...whoever this ball of energy was. His girlfriend? Were they on a date? He crossed his fingers that they were brother and sister. Romantic entanglements were never Sam's favorite part of leaping, but especially so when the girl was young enough to be his daughter. Yikes. He shuddered at the thought. He was getting too old for leaping. Wasn't he?  
  
    When he caught up with the excitable redhead, he caught sight of the sign on the booth, hand-painted and proudly proclaiming: THE WORLD'S HOTTEST CHILI DOG! A cartoon man underneath the lettering had waterfalls of tears streaming from his eyes as he spewed a stream of fire from his mouth.   
  
    "We've gotta try it, Alex!" the girl cried out as she hopped up in the air.  
  
    Sam rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly. "I dunno, uh, maybe we should just..."  
  
    "Two please!" the girl piped up to the man working the stand. She handed him some cash, and before Sam knew it, a greasy mess that probably had a hot dog underneath it somewhere was being shoved in his face. The smell of peppers slammed into him like a truck and he coughed in surprise.   
  
    The girl licked her lips and raised her chili dog to her mouth. "We'll try it together, okay? On three."  
  
    The rumbling sound coming from Sam's stomach reminded him that he was actually pretty hungry. And until he knew more about why he was here, he should do what Alex would do...Besides, it couldn't be that bad. He liked spicy food alright, although he'd never had the opportunity to have the "world's hottest" anything. Hell, there was no time like the present to start being adventurous! Or, like the past, Sam corrected himself. He slowly lifted his chili dog and nodded. "Ready."  
  
    "One, two...three!"   
  
\-------  
  
    Once he'd stopped spewing, Sam moaned and held onto the edges of the waste basket to catch his breath. Unsurprisingly, he didn't find himself liking the chili dog any better the second time around. Eating it was akin to swallowing gasoline and chasing it with a lit match, only slightly less fun. Several cups of water later, his mouth still felt like it was on fire. He picked up another cup from the picnic bench next to him and took several generous gulps. Who in their right mind actually enjoyed eating this kind of stuff?!   
  
    "You know, when I was on shore leave in Bangkok, there was this dish we tried on a bet..." When Al's voice piped up next to him, Sam nearly choked on his water, which did no favors for his burning throat. The shorter Italian was puffing reflectively on his cigar, dressed resplendently in a metallic gold suit and purple shirt. "It was some sort of soup. I'm not sure what the actual name of it was, something in Thai, but we nicknamed it the Rocket's Red Glare." He chuckled. "Because later on, it would feel like fireworks were coming out of your--"  
  
    "Al!"   
  
    "--booster seat. Hiya, Sammy." Al threw out a little wave with an impish grin and shoved his hands into his pockets.  
  
    Sam indulged in another large swallow of water before responding. "It feels like I melted my taste buds off..."  
  
    "There's a pleasant mental image."  
  
    Sam gave Al one of his infamously done looks. He was in no mood for jokes. "If you're not going to be useful, Al, then why did you--Hang on, how come you're here so quickly? You're never this early on a leap."  
  
    "What're you talkin' about?" Al asked defensively as he threw out his arms, "I show up early on plenty of leaps! Especially if there's a girl involved..." He lowered his eyes as Sam cocked his head in irritation. Then he admitted, "But as it happens, your vitals shot through the roof when you leaped in! I rushed into the Imaging Chamber as soon as I could to make sure you weren't getting squished by a car or shot at or something." His smile returned. "I stuck around for the atmosphere. Boy, I love the fair!" Twirling around, he gave the area a nostalgic sweep of the eye. "Reminds me of when I joined the circus as a boy. They had me working the ticket stands, mostly, but sometimes I'd sneak over to the kissing booth and--"  
  
    "Al, I'm not interested," Sam cut him off, as he always did when he knew Al was about to launch into another long story. He got right to the point. "Do you know what I leaped here to do?"  
  
    "You've barely got your feet wet; when was I supposed to have time to figure that out?" Al answered, to Sam's slight chagrin. He whipped the handlink out of his jacket with a flourish. "Here's what we've got so far. It's March 15, 1968, and you've leaped into Alex Donnell. He's 14 years old, soccer player, decent grades...grows up to be a pretty average joe. I think it's safe to say that whatever you're here for, it's not for Alex."  
  
    Sam nodded. "Okay. What about the girl I'm here with? Who's she?"  
  
    Al consulted the handlink. "The girl, uh, that would be...Candace Harper. She's Alex's best friend; the two of them grew up next door to each other."  
  
    Sam let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god, I'm not dating a kid..."   
  
    "Hey, champ!" Sam was startled as a hand was placed on his shoulder. An overly cheery man around his age with horn-rimmed glasses was smiling at him. "You about ready to hit the ole trail? Where's Candace?"  
  
    "This is your father, George Donnell," Al provided in response to Sam's questioning look. George shook Sam playfully and he shut his eyes and held back a groan. He might not be dating a kid, but he had essentially become one again. That meant watchful parents, rules, and curfews, things he'd outgrown a long time ago.   
  
    "You in there, sport?" his new father asked as he gave him a playful ruffle of the hair.  
  
    Sam forced a smile and took in a deep breath, something which didn't escape a snickering Al. "Yeah, I'm ready. Candace is in the bathroom. She should be--"  
  
    "Done!" Candace proclaimed as she skipped toward them cheerfully. She'd chugged about as much water as Sam had, but if she was feeling any other ill effects from the chili dog, she was hiding it well.   
  
    "Perfect. Let's go, kiddos!" George slid his arms around both of them, squeezed gently, and pushed them forward. Leaning in toward Sam, he said quietly, "I know _someone_ who's got to be going to bed pretty soon."  
  
    "Ah, this is where I leave you, Sam," Al said as the Imaging Chamber door whooshed open behind him, "Don't stay up past your beddy-bye, _champ_." With an infuriating wink, he disappeared into the future.   
  
\-------  
  
    "I hope you didn't spoil your dinner at the fair, munchkin. I made your favorite!" Alex's mother smiled widely through her heavy makeup and pinched Sam's cheek. He gulped. Good lord, what a nightmare. She seemed under the impression that Alex was five years old.  
  
    "Actually...Mom, can I get a rain check on dinner? I'm not feeling very well." Sam gave a smile to try and not hurt her feelings. The chili dog was not sitting very well with him, and he didn't want to risk throwing up again. He should've just told her he was full, because immediately she was giving an exaggerated frown and feeling his forehead.  
  
    "Oh, my stars! You aren't getting sick, are you?"  
  
    Sam gently pulled away. "No, I just ate something that didn't agree with me, that's all."  
  
    Mrs. Donnell stuck out her lips and maternally brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. "Well, if you're sure..."  
  
    "I'm positive. Save some of...my favorite for me, will you?"   
  
    Mr. Donnell stepped up to the foot of the stairs Sam was already ascending in the hopes that they led to his bedroom. "Don't stay up too late now, buddy. You've got school in the morning, and then practice after that." He wagged a patronizing finger at Sam, who kept a smile plastered on his face.  
  
    "You bet!" He chuckled and turned around. Please let his room be close.  
  
\-------  
  
    Once Sam had successfully located his bedroom, he had to lay down. The chili dog and his stomach were at war, and the hot dog was winning. Ugh, he never wanted to see a chili dog again! Before he'd laid down, however, he caught a glimpse of Alex's face in the mirror. He looked like he could grow up to be very handsome, although he was still in an awkward in between stage. His cheeks were rosy, making him constantly look embarrassed. Or maybe that was just Sam being embarrassed for him.   
  
      Alex's room was about as well-kept as any teenage boy's. A soccer ball rested atop the dresser alongside a handful of horror action figures. Dracula and the Wolfman bared their fangs, while some sort of slime monster glared at him through its one eye. Next to that was a pile of comic books, resting in a precarious-looking stack. Sam noted the stuffed animals next to him on the bed and rolled his eyes. Alex's parents really did baby him, probably because he appeared to be an only child. Maybe Sam was here to help him grow up a bit. With that thought running through his mind, he absentmindedly picked up a fluffy bat with an overbite and clutched it to his upset stomach.   
  
    He'd have time to figure out what he was here to do later. Once he'd slept a little and felt better, Al would show up with his objective. He always did. Sam had to remind himself to not be in such a hurry all the time. He never liked waiting around, but some R &R wouldn't hurt every once in a while.   
  
    He could worry about it in the morning.  
  
\-------  
  
    In the middle of the night, Sam awoke with a sharp pain in his right side, feeling feverish and chilled. Oh great, maybe he'd gotten food poisoning. That was just what he needed. Whatever it was, he felt lousy and nauseous. When he sat up, the pain worsened and he had to double over.   
  
    His stomach churned, and he groaned and covered his mouth. Pushing through the pain, he managed to stagger out of bed and into the hallway, but that's about as far as he went before the chili dog came back with a vengeance. Shortly after that, the lights came on and Alex's parents came rushing over in their robes.   
  
    "Oh! Oh my stars!" Mrs. Donnell gasped as she placed a hand to his forehead, "Sweetheart, you're burning up!"  
  
    "I tried to make it to the..."  
  
    "Shh shh shh, don't you worry about that," she cut Sam off as she rubbed his back. She turned to face her husband. "George, get the keys. We're taking him to the hospital."  
  
    "I don't think that's nece..." Sam was starting to stand, but he stopped and groaned as he was stabbed in the side again. Maybe, he admitted to himself, there was some cause for concern. This didn't seem like food poisoning. In fact, he was beginning to recognize the signs and symptoms, and he hoped he was wrong in his self-diagnosis. Because all of this seemed like...  
  
\-------  
  
    "Appendicitis?" Mr. Donnell repeated in astonishment.   
  
    The doctor nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid Alex is going to need immediate surgery." Mrs. Donnell gasped.   
  
    "Wait," Sam cut in nervously, "Are you absolutely sure appendicitis is what this is? Maybe, um, maybe we can get a second opinion, or--"  
  
    "I'm certain, Alex. I'm sorry, but if we don't remove your appendix before it bursts, you could die."  
  
    Sam fell silent. The man before him _was_ the second opinion. As a doctor himself, he knew he was right. In fact, he had memories of a previous leap where he'd helped a woman on a plane who was suffering from appendicitis, and he'd nearly lost her. But he also knew that an appendectomy was a relatively common surgery and easy to recover from, especially when it was taken care of before the appendix ruptured. Still, that didn't mean he had to like it.   
  
    Sam gave a small nod to his borrowed parents. "Okay. What're we waiting for?"  
  
\-------  
  
    "Sam? Hey, I think he's coming to. Gooshie, would you stop talking my ear off? I've got it! Jeez!"  
  
    Sam's eyes slowly slid open, and a very colorful sight blurred into view. Al was hovering near his hospital bed, dressed in yet another amazingly tacky outfit. He wore a red plaid suit jacket over a matching blue set of shirt and pants, tied together with a black bolo tie with a twisted gold top. The hologram leaned in closer and raised his eyebrows. "Hey, kid, you back to the waking world?"  
  
    Sam cleared his throat and eyed the cigar forgotten in Al's hand. "You're not supposed to smoke in here..." he said groggily. Al blinked in confusion before Sam gave him a small smirk to indicate he was joking.   
  
    With a sigh of relief, Al gave a chortle. "That's a good one, Sam." He smacked a hand to his forehead. "Cheese and rice! You had us worried at the Project."  
  
    "Sorry..." Sam said. He was still a little out of it.   
  
    "Don't say you're sorry, Sam."  
  
    "Okay. Sorry."  
  
    "How you feeling?"   
  
    "I've been better," Sam admitted, running a hand over his face, "But I guess I've been worse."  
  
    "That's the right attitude! You'll get your spunk back in no time," Al stated confidently with a twinkle in his eye. He bounced on the balls of his feet, then looked as if he just remembered something, patting down the front of his jacket. "Oh! I've got something for you..."   
  
    "For me?" Sam asked, confused. He wasn't _that_ out of it. He knew Al was still a hologram.   
  
    "Uh-huh," Al confirmed through the cigar in his teeth, just as he produced a large card from his jacket and grinned. "We, uh, everyone signed it for you." He held the card out for him to see. "We can't actually give it to you, but, y'know..." He shrugged apologetically.   
  
    The front of the card had a comical illustration of a frog in casts and bandages, reading 'Get Well Soon!' Al opened it, and inside the frog was hopping from a lily pad, reading, 'Here's to the next leap forward!' The space around it was filled with signatures and well-wishes from the Project staff, most of whom Sam couldn't remember, but he was incredibly touched all the same. His face cracked into a wide grin. "That's great, Al! Thank you. And thank everyone else for me."  
  
    "It was nothin'," Al dismissed, sliding the card back into his jacket, "Personally, I wanted to get you a card with naked lady mud flaps, but I was outvoted."

     Sam chuckled, but he immediately regretted it and groaned in pain. "Ohhh, Al, don't make me laugh..."

     "Sorry, Sam," Al grinned.  
  
    Sam sighed and leaned back into his pillow, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "It's just my luck. Of all the people in 1968 I could've leaped into, I had to land on one who has appendicitis..."  
  
    "Nope, kid, this one's entirely on you."  
  
    Sam glanced down his nose toward his friend. "What?"  
  
    "According to Ziggy, Alex Donnell's medical records never showed him having appendicitis prior to your leap-in," Al informed him as he took the handlink out of his pocket, "And it's a good thing too, because people might have some questions if Alex needed his appendix removed _twice_." He pointed toward him with his cigar. "So that means _you_ were the lucky one with the Cracker Jack prize."  
  
    "Me?" Sam questioned, dumbfounded. He was so used to gaining residual traits from the people he'd leaped into at this point, he'd never even considered the possibility that _he_ was the one with the appendicitis in the first place.   
  
    Al gave the handlink a good, frustrated whack. "Yeah, you, which has royally screwed things up on our end." The handlink squealed as he shook it. "This never happened in the original history, so now Ziggy has to reconfigure everything. You could've picked a better time for this, you know."  
  
    "I didn't choose for this to happen!" Sam shot back defensively. In the past, he'd had leaps where residuals from his hosts had made things considerably more difficult, but he'd never given any thought to how his _own_ health could affect a leap. In fact, he didn't think that had ever come into play. He knew how to take care of himself and he was hardly ever sick.   
  
    "Well whoever's fault it is," Al said, his eyes sliding from the handlink to a glaring Sam, "Ziggy still has to rerun scenarios. We don't know what you're here for yet, so just take it easy for now. Don't go running any marathons." Despite himself, Sam gave a small grin and rolled his eyes. Al smiled back and opened up the Imaging Chamber. "I'll be back when we can figure Plan B." He waved, hopped backward into the doorway, and it whooshed shut.   
  
    Sam chuckled at the hop and groaned again. "Owww, Al..."


	2. Chapter 2

    To Sam's relief, he was told that he should be able to return home later that evening. If one were to look up a prime example of doctors being the worst patients, he would be it. Now that he could walk a little bit without assistance, he was ready to get up and get out of there. It wasn't that he disliked hospitals per se, but lying in bed simply left him with nothing to _do_. Luckily, his boredom came to an end when Candace peeked her head through the door.   
  
    "Candace," Sam smiled.   
  
    "Hey, Alex," Candace greeted him excitedly, "Can I come in?"  
  
    "I wish you would."  
  
    Nodding fervently, Candace entered the room and stopped at the foot of the bed. She looked him up and down with awe. "Wooow...does that hurt?"  
  
    "A little bit."   
  
    "That's so boss..." she breathed, thoroughly impressed.   
  
    Sam grinned. "So how was school? Did anybody miss me?"  
  
    "School was school," Candace shrugged. She eyed her untied shoe thoughtfully, her giddiness having worn off.  
  
    "Did something happen?"   
  
    Candace sighed heavily and shook her head. "No, nothin' at school. It's just..." She flopped herself down in the chair next to him. "My dad's in town again."  
  
    "And you don't wanna see him?" questioned Sam uncertainly.  
  
    "Where have _you_ been the last 2 years?" Candace responded as if it were obvious. Sheepishly, Sam hoped she'd blame his memory lapse on the pain medication. She went on. "He showed up like everything was okay, like he never left, ya know? He had a birthday present for me. He's only a month late." She rolled her eyes. "You know what he got me?"  
  
    "Um--"  
  
    "A pink stuffed rabbit!" she exclaimed, not waiting for Sam's guess, "Can you believe it? I hate pink. And I'm too old for stuffed animals!"  
  
    As Sam remembered the stuffed animals in Alex's room with some more secondhand embarrassment, he shrugged and offered, "Well I'm sure he's trying." He wasn't sure what Candace's father was really like, so he couldn't say one way or the other.   
  
    "Yeah, he's always _trying_ , but he never gets it right." Candace shook herself and shifted into a happier mode. "Whatever. Forget him. How long do you get out of school, huh? Like a month? A year?"  
  
    "I'm not that lucky," Sam answered good-humoredly, "I should be back on my feet pretty soon. I'm going home tonight."  
  
    "Right on." Someone cleared their throat, and they turned to see a redheaded woman in the doorway, presumably Candace's mother. Candace turned apologetically back to Sam. "I've gotta go, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"  
  
    "Okay."  
  
    "Feel better! I'll see you later!" She waved happily back at him and skipped out.  
  
    "Cute kid."  
  
    "Al!" Sam noticed the hologram standing in the corner of the room, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His friend slowly slid over to him, eyes flickering distractedly toward the door. "How long have you been here?"  
  
    Al rubbed at his ear. "Oh, uh, not long. How're you doin'?"  
  
    "Tired, but I'm feeling better already. I'll be discharged tonight, actually."   
  
    "That's good, Sam, that's good..." Al responded, bobbing his head and avoiding eye contact. Sam warily noticed his sudden evasive posturing. "It's good you're feeling better, because, uh...we've run into a slight snag back at the Project." He pinched his fingers together.  
  
    Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
    "I mean, uh...we're having problems accessing Ziggy's databanks at the moment."  
  
    "What kind of problems accessing them?"  
  
    "As in, we can't."  
  
    Momentarily, Sam forgot where he was and tried to sit up, but he quickly received a painful reminder and laid back again. "What do you mean, you can't access them?"  
  
    Pacing toward the wall, Al let out a very fake chuckle. "See, it's, uh, ha ha! It's a funny story, Sam. You're gonna love this one."  
  
    Sam had a feeling he would not love this one. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as Al spun to face him with a look of manufactured innocence.   
  
    "I didn't mention this before," Al began, "but Tina is out of town visiting her sister. And, you know, I have certain, uh... _needs_ , that have to be taken care of..." Sam's brows were knit in confusion. Al motioned toward his crotch. "You know, down there..."  
  
    Sam screwed up his face and cocked his head. “I know what you meant, Al. What does any of this have to do with Ziggy?"  
  
    "I'm gettin' to it," Al said, lifting his hands to tell Sam to be patient. The annoyed quantum physicist looked at him expectantly. "So while Ziggy's doin' her thing, sometimes I'm, uh...doin' _my_ thing."  
  
    "Oh my god, can we please stop talking about this?"  
  
    "This is an important detail, Sam! So anyway, I was about to do business as usual today, and I set Ziggy to make a few downloads to help me along, and, well..." He scratched his head and nervously laughed. "She got a virus! It's kind of funny, if you think about it."  
  
    Sam was gobsmacked. For a moment, he struggled to speak. He assumed he must be on some pretty strong meds, because he couldn't have heard Al correctly. Slowly, he asked, "Ziggy got a virus...because you were using her to download porn?"  
  
    "Sam!" Al exclaimed, offended, "I can't believe you would think so little of me." He hooded his eyes and took a drag off of his cigar. "It was high class nude photography."  
  
    "Al! You were using Ziggy--" Sam stammered, "a one-of-a-kind, multibillion-dollar, parallel hybrid computer-- _my_ computer--to download--"  
  
    "Now, take it easy, I--"  
  
    "Why didn't you use your own computer?! Why did you have to use Ziggy?!"  
  
    "Because Ziggy runs the fastest!" Al took on a defensive stance. "Look, I don't exactly have a lot of time on my hands, you know, running the Project, and--"  
  
    "I can't believe you! I've never heard of anything so unprofessional in my life!"   
  
    "I was in my office; no one was lookin'! It's not like I haven't done it before."  
  
    Sam's jaw fell open. He didn't think it were possible to be more appalled than he already was. "You've done this _before_?"  
  
    "Many times, and she's never caught anything," Al quickly replied with an emphatic wave of his hand.   
  
    Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, and asked, "Then why did it happen now? Ziggy has one of the most advanced firewalls in the world. Nothing should be able to get past it."  
  
    Al shrugged a single shoulder. "Well, it's her time of the month."  
  
    "Her _what_?"  
  
    "Y'know..." Al leaned forward. " _Updates_. Which normally wouldn't be that much of an issue, but it just so happens this time one of the updates accidentally disabled her firewall! So really, when you get down to it, this was Gooshie's fault."  
  
    "That shouldn't happen either!" Sam yelled, ignoring Al's blame game, "The firewall I installed shouldn't be able to be turned off without our authorization!"   
  
    "That was the _old_ firewall, Sam," Al pointed out, "It might've been state of the art in 1995, but it's ancient now! We replaced it back in '98. So sometimes, we run into bugs like this one."  
  
    By now, Sam had his face buried in his hands. Al had left him for half a day and suddenly his life's work was in shambles. He slowly pulled his hands down his face, stretching the skin as stress short-circuited his thinking process.   
  
    Changing tack once again, Al tried to be encouraging. "But the good news, Sam, the good news is, the virus should be easy enough to get rid of. Unfortunately, Ziggy misinterpreted it as someone hacking her system. Which means we can use her in a limited capacity, but we can't access any of her databanks or have her run scenarios. But luckily, there's an override code we can enter to get her running full steam again."  
  
    "Great," Sam said through his fingers, suddenly more hopeful, "Then enter it."  
  
    "Well, that's where you come in," Al started slowly, blinking a cautious smile.  
  
    "Me?"  
  
    "See, in case of an emergency, like, say, one of us is being held at gunpoint, the security code is in two parts that only you and I know. I have one part, and you," Al gestured to Sam, "have the other. Now if you could just tell me your part of the code, I can enter it in and get Ziggy running again. Easy peasy!" He clapped his hands, splayed out his arms, and waited with a cheerful grin.   
  
    Sam's brows were furrowed in confusion. Al's grin faltered. "I don't remember any security code, Al."  
  
    Al's arms dropped and he frowned. "Aw, don't say that, Sam..."  
  
    Sam shrugged helplessly. "I must have swiss cheesed it."  
  
    "Sam! This is important! You have to remember the code!"  
  
    "Isn't there another way you could get it?" Sam tried.  
  
    "If there was, I wouldn't be picking _your_ stinkin' swiss cheesed brain!" Al yelled, his worry giving way to frustration. He put one hand to his head and the other to his hip.  
  
    "Do I need to remind you whose fault it is that Ziggy got a virus in the first place?" Sam asked resentfully. Al snuck a sideways glance at him from under his eyelids and remained quiet. "Look," he sighed, rubbing his eyes, "did you at least figure out what I leaped in here to do?"  
  
    "Ah...no," Al responded, and Sam rolled his head to the side, "But! We do have an idea. Before Ziggy locked up shop, she was able to determine that whatever it is you're here to change, it happens to one of your--to one of Alex's--neighbors tomorrow night."  
  
    "Tomorrow night?" Sam echoed with concern.  
  
    "Right. And you're smart, Sam! All you gotta do is visit your new neighbors, do some snooping around, and you can puzzle out this leap yourself...at least until we can figure out this Ziggy situation."  
  
    "Do some snooping?" Sam repeated incredulously, "Al! I can barely walk right now! How am I supposed to do that?"  
  
    "You make a good point..."  
  
    "And even if I could," Sam fretted, "how am I supposed to keep an eye on all of my neighbors? I can't look into everything in their lives!" He sighed, waited a beat, and then suddenly had an idea. He looked over at Al, whose mouth was slanted in thought as he stared at the wall. "But _you_ can."  
  
    Al pointed his cigar to his chest. "Me?"  
  
    "Yeah! You can spy on my neighbors, follow them around."  
  
    "What good am _I_ gonna do? I'm a hologram!"  
  
    "You can 'do some snooping.' You can look in on them without anyone knowing the difference. Then tell me what you find out."  
  
    "Saaaam..." Al said in a low voice, shaking his head, "I don't think that's such a good idea."  
  
    "Come on, Al," Sam pleaded, "you owe me after getting us into this. I can't do this by myself."  
  
    It was a combination of guilt and that damn puppy dog look Sam was giving him that made Al give in. He blew out a breath and relented. "Fine, fine, fine. I'll take a look around." He rolled his eyes at his friend's smug smile. "Meanwhile, _try_ and remember the code, Sam." He tapped his temple, opened the Imaging Chamber, and left.   
  
    Sure. Easy peasy. As Sam racked his brain for his half of the override code, he shut his eyes for a moment and nodded off.  
  
\-------  
  
    Al squinted through tendrils of smoke at a faded wooden duck sitting on the shelf. As he stole another look toward the old woman reading in her rocking chair, he spun himself around and began to amble through the rest of the house. He wasn't sure what kind of clues he was supposed to be looking for, but the only danger here at the moment was catching a critical case of the snores.   
  
    It wasn't _entirely_ his fault, he reasoned with himself. He didn't know the firewall was disabled, or he never would've had Ziggy downloadin' spank material. At least, not until it was switched back on, then he could get back to debugging the hard drive. Sam had no business getting that uptight about it, it's not as if Mr. Farm Boy hadn't buttered the corn every once in a while.   
  
    That aside, they would've been a-okay if the other Project Director could just hold onto a thought for any decent amount of time. Swiss cheesing was a real pain in the ass! How the hell were they gonna get out of this one? But since Al couldn't do anything further on the Ziggy front, he might as well go with Sam's plan and let Gooshie try to work his magic.  
  
    Al studied the black and white pictures hung on the wall. A much younger version of the old woman smiled back at him, arm in arm with her husband in front of the house. The same husband stood stoic in another photo, adorned in a crisp Army uniform. Next to that hung a framed Purple Heart. Al stopped, took this in, and shot a sympathetic look toward the woman he'd left in the living room. She was all alone.   
  
    It was quiet here for now, and there were more houses to investigate. Al cast another glance down the hall and phased through the door.   
  
\-------  
  
    In stark contrast, the house next door was all noise and motion. Out of instinct, Al jumped out of the way as a set of shrieking twin boys ran past him, followed closely by a tabby cat and a barking shaggy dog. A cockatiel squawked from its cage by the ugly brown couch. Sly  & The Family Stone blared loudly from a room to his right, and a frustrated mother in hair rollers banged on the door.   
  
    "Lacey!" she shouted, "Turn down that radio! You want to annoy all of the neighbors?"  
  
    "Aw, Mom!" came a muffled whine from inside.  
  
    "Listen to your mother!" a tall, mustached man said sternly as he walked past. The volume of the music lowered just as the barking started up again, and Al jumped. The dog had returned and was watching him curiously, wagging its tail.   
  
    "Oh, I forgot you can see me," Al breathed with relief, "I don't suppose you can tell me what this leap is about?" The dog woofed and sat down. Al scratched his temple. "I didn't think so..."  
  
    "What's _your_ name?"   
  
    A surprised Al twisted his head around to see a little boy of about 5 standing behind him. Oh, great. Now he had _two_ spies to get around. Just like the dog, the little boy could see him. Turning to face the tyke, Al crouched down to be at eye level. "Uhhh, well, my name is Albert. You can call me Al. And what do I call you?"   
  
    "Freddy," the little boy said quietly.   
  
    "Freddy. That's a good name."  
  
    "Are you my friend?" Freddy asked somewhat shyly, clutching a toy lizard close to him.   
  
    Al smiled warmly. "Yeah, Freddy, I'm your friend. But the thing is, I'm an imaginary friend, so only you can see or hear me."  
  
    "Buddy, too," Freddy said as he pointed at the dog, who continued to wag his tail at Al.  
  
    Acknowledging the dog with an incline of the head, Al said, "Right, and Buddy too. Now, I'm just visiting for a little while before I go back to, uh, Imaginary Land, so I won't be here too long." He leaned in toward Freddy with a look of importance. "Until then, you've gotta keep me a secret, okay? Can you do that for me?" Freddy nodded fervently and Al grinned. "Thanks a million, Freddy."   
  
    The fire alarm went off as smoke curled into the room, and Al stood up with panic. Could this be it? Was there a fire? Shouldn't this happen tomorrow?   
  
    "Oh no, the chicken!" Al heard the mother yell. He held his stomach in relief as the alarm pounded his eardrums.  
  
\-------  
  
      The sound of crickets floated in from outside Sam's window. Night had fallen and he was back at Alex's house, propped up as comfortably as he could be in a mound of soft pillows and staring out the window with a pair of binoculars. At last, he could do something. Not that he could see much in the dark, but he was eager to finally get this leap underway. Besides, only having until tomorrow night didn't give him much time.  
  
    He pondered if this leap had something to do with Candace and her father. She was the only neighbor he knew anything about at this point, so that's all he had to work with. Maybe she and her father had gotten into a fight and things had gotten physical? The way Candace talked about him didn't make him seem abusive, though, just neglectful. Then again, maybe there wasn't anything violent to this leap at all. Candace could run away tomorrow night, or make some other mistake in the heat of the moment. Yes, those were the kind of leaps Sam preferred. No suicides, no murders, just the need for a push in the right direction, with no threat of injury or death.   
  
    Or maybe, someone outside had a body in a bag.  
  
    Alarmed, Sam tensed up and tried to make out what he was seeing in the darkness. The silhouette of a man struggled with something heavy as he dragged it across the pavement and toward his front door. And, Sam couldn't be sure, but in the pitch black, it looked like something was sticking out...an arm! The silhouette glanced behind him, shoved the bag into the house, and slammed the door.   
  
     The binoculars dropped into Sam's lap. Maybe he was already too late.


	3. Chapter 3

    "Sam? Yoohoo? Hellooo?"  
  
    Sam reluctantly pried open his eyes to find Al waving the handlink in front of his face. The dancing lights made him blink. "Huh...?"  
  
    "Hey! Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!"  
  
    "Really, Al? Really?"   
  
    "Time to get up, Sam, let's go." Al looked out the window ponderously as Sam rubbed his eyes against the sun now shining in.   
  
    "Uggh, what time is it...?" Sam grimaced a bit as he adjusted himself.   
  
    "A little past 4."  
  
    "Uggh, in the morning...?"  
  
    "No, 4 pm."   
  
    "What?" Sam asked with surprise, now more awake. With considerable discomfort, he managed prop himself up into a sitting position. "I slept in that late?"  
  
    "Yep, snoozed the day away, which is why we need to get started." Al clapped his hands together. "Up and at 'em!" Sam tilted his head and pursed his lips. "Er--figuratively speaking."  
  
    "I'm up, I'm up..." Sam noticed a pitcher and a glass of water had been placed on the nightstand by Alex's dutiful mother while he was asleep, and he reached over for a drink.  
  
    "Time is not on our side here, so it would be really helpful if you remembered that code..." Al tried again hopefully. Sam looked up over his cup like a child who had disappointed his father, swallowing and twisting his mouth. Al took this as a no and sighed. "Well it was a long shot, but there's no harm in trying."  
  
    "Did you find out anything about my neighbors?"  
  
    "I sure did. While you were catching z's in here, I've been spendin' all day runnin' around 1968!" Al jabbed his cigar at him. "And let me tell you something, it is not easy keeping track of all of these people with no super computer to lock onto them. Lord help me, I'm actually starting to miss that bucket of bolts!" He rolled his shoulders as he soaked in his own horrific admission. A change of topic was in order. "Do you know how many kids live in that house over there?" His cigar waved toward the wall facing the house across the street. " _Five_! Five kids! And another one on the way! I'll tell you one thing, Sam, Mr. and Mrs. Donovan might be able to give _me_ a run for my money in the bedroom department."   
  
    "Who?"  
  
    "The Donovans, uh, your neighbors there." Al noticed Sam's questioning look. "What do you think I've been doing this whole time? I overheard their names following them around town. Let's see, there's, ummm...Helen, Charles, Freddy, Paul, Lacey, Ken, and Judd, not to mention--"  
  
    "Okay, okay, I get the picture," Sam interrupted, "What did you find out?"  
  
    "Well for one thing, Lacey needs to raise her standards for who she dates, because this guy, I'm telling you, Sam, he's a _total_ geek." Al shook his head in disbelief.  
  
    Sam was growing less patient by the minute. "I mean, did you find out anything relevant?"   
  
    "Uh, well, nothing in particular with the Donovans..." Al admitted, "There's an old woman who lives behind you, I didn't find out her name. Might be something happens to her since she's all alone there. Not even any family."  
  
    "How do you know that? They might live somewhere else."  
  
    Al shook his head no. "There's no board games, no candy around the house--and trust me, Sam, grandparents _always_ keep candy and games around for the grandkids. She's got no one. All she's done all day is sit by the window and read."  
  
    Sam took this in and nodded in acknowledgement. "What about Candace? She seemed to have something going on between her and her father."  
  
    Al shrugged. "She was at school all day. I didn't see her father."   
  
    The two of them fell silent for a moment. It was becoming increasingly clear that Al had found no solid leads this afternoon, and time was running short.   
  
    Which left one more house to ask about. As Sam remembered the chilling scene he'd witnessed last night, he swallowed and asked, "And what about...over there?" He pointed nervously to the window.   
  
    Al glanced back. "What? Oh, over there. I didn't see anyone home."  
  
    "I did..."  
  
    Al cocked a concerned eyebrow at Sam's sudden change of mood and took a step forward. "Sam?"  
  
    "I saw something last night," Sam informed him hesitantly, "I saw whoever lives there dragging... _something_ inside. It kind of looked like a..."  
  
    "A what?"  
  
    "...a body."  
  
    "A body?!" the hologram repeated, suddenly very tense, "What do you mean, 'kind of' looked like? They were only 'kind of' dead?"  
  
    "I don't know, Al," Sam replied, shaking his head, "It was dark. I couldn't really see what it was, exactly, it just...you know, looked like a--a body..."  
  
    "You didn't think this was worth mentioning before we played twenty questions, Sam?" asked Al in annoyance, "Did it cross your mind that maybe this leap has something to do with the MURDERER next door?"  
  
    "Yes, probably," sighed Sam, becoming irritated himself, "But that doesn't mean none of the other neighbors are involved. What if he goes after one of them? And that's if he's a murderer at all. I still don't know what I saw. I mean, it was dark, and I was tired and medicated, and..." He threw out his hands. "I mean, I dunno. You didn't see anything suspicious in his house, did you?"  
  
    "Suspicious like a dead body?" Al asked sarcastically, quirking an eyebrow, "I would've mentioned something by now."  
  
    "Maybe he's hidden it somewhere."  
  
    Al shuddered as his imagination ran wild. "Yikes, that gives me the willies. He's probably hidden it in some basement full of _skeletons_..."   
  
    "You have to look around again."  
  
    Al jumped. "What?!"  
  
    "Look for the body, Al," Sam told him matter of factly, "If this guy killed someone, we're going to need proof."  
  
    "I don't think I can do that, Sam." Al rubbed the back of his neck and began to pace.  
  
    Sam frowned. "Why not? You're a hologram. He can't do anything to you."  
  
    "Because...because I don't want to be around dead things," Al stated quietly to the carpet, giving a half-hearted shrug. "It's icky."  
  
    "Al...do this for me. Please?"   
  
    Al tried to avoid Sam's pleading gaze, but he was locked in once again. He screwed up his mouth and sighed through his nose.  
  
\-------  
  
    The head of a very squirrelly hologram peeked through the wall of their suspected killer's basement, stepping blindly into the dark. He took back what he said. He wasn't missing Ziggy at all. In fact, if she fully came back online any time soon, he'd dismantle her himself. Even as a hologram, he didn't exactly warm up to the idea of digging up corpses in basements. This should've been Sam's job. How exactly did he get roped into this anyway?   
  
    Now if only he could see anything in this basement...  
  
\-------  
  
    Something tapped against Sam's window and he jumped, looking up to see Candace grinning from outside and rapidly motioning for him to open up. Wincing as he leaned forward slightly, he managed to unlock the window so she could let herself in. He flinched as she crawled over the bed and him along with it. "Oww, Candace, what are you doing here?"  
  
    "Wow, sorry! Didn't mean to hurt you!"  
  
    Sam grinned forgivingly. "It's okay, just use the front door next time."  
  
    "Force of habit!" Candace explained, throwing her arms up, "You know I always use the window. Oh!" She slid her bag from her shoulder and rummaged inside. "I almost forgot. I brought you your homework!" After a moment, her arm shot toward him with a handful of wrinkled papers grasped in hand.   
  
    "Gee, thanks." Sam accepted the mess with amusement, placing Alex's homework on the nightstand. With Candace's scattered mannerisms, he was just lucky the papers arrived in one piece.   
  
    The excitable teenager jumped onto the end of the bed, crossing her legs and sitting Indian style. "You goin' star crazy yet?"  
  
    Sam squinted in bewilderment. "Am I going _what_?"   
  
    "Star crazy," Candace said again. She sucked on her bottom lip in thought, "My mom told me about it, like when someone is cooped up for too long and they wig out."  
  
    "You mean _stir_ crazy," Sam corrected her as he tried not to laugh.   
  
    "That too. Come on, you know you missed me!"  
  
    Sam couldn't hold back his chuckle this time, and he lightly held his sore side. "Okay, yeah, I missed you." Candace flashed a self-satisfied grin. Now that he thought about it, this was his opportunity to talk to her about her father. If this wasn't what he leaped in for, it certainly wouldn't hurt to help mend their relationship. Besides, did he have anything else he could do at the moment? "You see your dad again today?"  
  
    Candace fell silent and played with her shoelaces. "Nah...I told Mom I didn't want to see him."  
  
    "Why not?"  
  
    Candace shot him a look. "You _know_ why not. He can't just pretend like he didn't leave. It doesn't make it okay."  
  
    "Maybe not. But don't you think this is his way of trying to make up for it?"  
  
    "I dunno. Maybe."  
  
    "You only have one father, Candace."  
  
    "He left us!"  
  
    "He's here now," Sam pointed out softly, "When my father--" He stopped himself. He was Alex Donnell, not Sam Beckett, he reminded himself. "I had a friend who moved away to college. And while he was gone, his father...passed away. And he always regretted not being there for him near the end."   
  
    "My dad's not gonna die. Not now, anyway."  
  
    "Maybe, maybe not. The point is, you never know how much time you have left with someone. And if that person loves you...you don't want to lose that time."  
  
    Candace was silent again. She began to tie up her loose shoelaces as she thought over what Sam had said. Finally, she gave a crisp nod and said, "Okay."  
  
    "Okay?" Sam raised his eyebrows.  
  
    "Okay. I'll see him." She looked up and cracked a smile.   
  
    "Okay then," Sam repeated cheerfully, nodding back.   
  
\-------  
  
    Geez louise, this place was spooky. Admittedly, Al couldn't make out much in the shadows, but that's probably why he had goosebumps in the first place. In his head, whatever he was looking at could've been anything, a bony finger, a jar of brains. In reality, he had to tell himself, the finger was probably part of an old sewing machine, and those mason jars were probably full of nothing but canned fruit. Yeah, heh heh, he and Sam sure had some wild imaginations this leap.  
  
    The light switched on, and the jar most certainly did not contain fruit. A fetal pig stared blankly at him from inside the murky juices, and he shrieked and hopped back. The work bench he'd landed next to contained something even worse...a pile of bones on top! He yelled and backed up yet again.   
  
    "Holy smokes!"  
  
    _Shuffle, clink, shuffle, clink._    
  
    Al looked up in terror as he saw the owner of the house shambling down the stairs, draped in chains and covered in red. The trembling hologram gasped, and he could've sworn the man looked straight at him. He wasn't gonna wait around to find out for sure! He took off through the wall and shot straight toward Sam's house.  
  
\-------  
  
    "He's a killer he's a killer he's a killer!" Al yelled as he tore through the wall and flapped his arms at a startled Sam.  
  
    "Al? What--?"  
  
    "I checked out the basement, and you're right, this guy is bad news!" Al paced restlessly next to the bed. If he were tangible, he'd be burning a hole in the carpet. "It was horrible! He had b-bones on a table, and some poor little piggy in a jar, and--oh, and blood, Sam! From human sacrifices, Sam! All over him, Sam! Sam!"  
  
    "Al!" Sam shouted, raising his hands, "Calm down! Are you sure about what you saw?"  
  
    "Yes!" Al yelled, jerking to a stop, "I'm telling you, it's Creepsville, U.S.A. over there!"  
  
    Sam nodded in resolve. "Okay, we'll get the police."  
  
    "And tell them what? How are you supposed to know about anything in this nozzle's basement? You've been stuck here in bed all day."  
  
    "I'll just tell them the truth," Sam explained sensibly, "That I saw something last night that seemed suspicious." As if on cue, the sound of a truck revving up rumbled in from outside, and he looked out the window to see his neighbor driving away. "Oh no, he's leaving!"  
  
    "Good riddance..." muttered the hologram, leaning his head through the wall.   
  
    Sam's mouth thinned. They had no way to lock on to their would-be murderer. "Al, he could be going after his next victim!"   
  
    Al's eyes widened as he caught on. He anxiously rubbed the side of his face. "Jeez, you're right. But how do we know who he's going after? We don't have access to Ziggy's records!"  
  
    Sam thought for a moment, formulating a plan. "Okay, umm...I'll get the police to look for his truck. I remember the license plate. Meanwhile, you keep watch outside in case he comes back."  
  
    "You got it." With a short nod, Al was stepping through the wall. Sam had already turned his head toward the door.   
  
    "Mrs.--uh, Mom! MOM!"  
  
    He didn't have to wait long before Alex's doting mother was rushing inside. "What? What is it, sweetie?" She noticed Sam's concerned expression and hurried to his side. "What's wrong? What can Mommy do to help?"   
  
    "Mom, we need to call 9-1-1."  
  
    "Call what now?"  
  
    "I mean--the police, call the police," Sam corrected himself. He had to remember what year he was in.   
  
    Mrs. Donnell gasped. "The police? Whatever for?" She began to feel his forehead for a temperature and he gently stopped her.  
  
    "Listen to me, Mom. Our neighbor over there, uh..." He motioned toward the window.  
  
    "Mr. Killian?"   
  
    "Yes, Mr...Killian?" _Killian_? Really? Sam mentally groaned. "Him. He's a murderer, and I have reason to believe he's going to kill someone else tonight."  
  
    Mrs. Donnell sat there for a moment, her eyes wide. Then, she giggled. "Oliver? A murderer? Alex, what's gotten into you? We've known Mr. Killian for years!"  
  
    "Maybe we don't know him as well as you think we know him. I saw him with a body last night!"  
  
    Mrs. Donnell smirked and nodded, straightening out Sam's bed sheets. "Ohhh, you did, did you? Out your window?"  
  
    Sam's shoulders sank when he realized she wasn't taking him seriously. "I'm telling you the truth! He's dangerous!"  
  
    His borrowed mother hummed in acknowledgement and began to tidy up his dresser. "I see. And you didn't happen to be reading one of these when you saw him, hmm?" She held up one of Alex's comics--a comic where the cover loudly proclaimed: MY NEIGHBOR THE VAMPIRE!   
  
    "No!" Sam exclaimed, jaw slack, "This isn't a joke! I really saw it!"  
  
    "Of course you did," Mrs. Donnell said with a patronizing wink. She crossed over to the nightstand and poured him another glass of water, holding out a set of pills. "You just get some rest now, munchkin."  
  
    "Mrs.--Mom!" Sam protested.   
  
    "If you don't want to take them, that's up to you. But Dr. Rosenthorpe said they'd make you feel better." She set the pills down on the nightstand, kissed his forehead, and headed for the door. "I'll be in to check on you again soon."  
  
    "But--" Sam leaned forward and winced. The door closed shut.   
  
\-------  
  
    Al breathed in the fumes from his cigar, chewing nervously and bouncing on his heels. He felt just short of useless simply standing here doing nothing. Curiously, he looked up toward the Imaging Chamber ceiling and asked, "Hey Gooshie? What's your progress with Ziggy? We could really use a break right about now." A pause as he listened to the nervous programmer, and he closed his eyes. "Of course not. That would make things too _easy_ , wouldn't it?"   
  
    He startled when he heard a rustling nearby, expecting to see Norman Bates on his way back to the Leatherface residence. Instead, he saw someone else, a man dressed in black, glancing skittishly over his shoulder and skulking in the bushes of the Donovan's house.   
  
    Al narrowed an eye at him. "What're _you_ up to, knucklenose?"  
  
    The man slowly opened the window and crawled inside. Sparing another look over his shoulder toward the house next door to Sam, Al cautiously crept after the suspicious trespasser.   
  
\-------  
      
    Now what? Sam tapped his fingers impatiently as he tried to figure out what to do. Whoever was going to get killed, they were running out of time. The sun had already set outside and plunged the neighborhood into darkness. Well, he'd have to make the call himself then. He'd just have to make it to the kitchen without getting noticed by his over-nurturing parents, who would most certainly stop him from calling now that they thought he was simply being an over-imaginative teenager. That is, if he made it that far. He could walk around a little, but he wasn't exactly moving like The Flash. Yeesh, now he _was_ talking comics.  
  
    Moving the sheets and pressing his lips together, Sam steeled himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Immediately, he was rewarded with more stabbing pain in his side. As he took a moment to breathe, he heard the _clunk!_ of a car door being shut. Outside, Oliver Killian was escorting a lovely young blonde from his truck and toward his front door.   
  
    Sam tensed up. Mr. Killian already had his next victim! He realized with despair that there wasn't time to call the police now. If he didn't act right away, this girl was as good as dead.   
  
    Oh boy. With a groan, Sam managed to painstakingly pull himself to his feet. "Owwww...ohhhh yeah....that smarts..." He squeezed his eyes shut and wobbled over to the wall. Once he was able to steady himself, he began to shuffle along the wall toward the door.  
  
    He cautiously peered into the hallway, and cringed when he saw Mrs. and Mr. Donnell chatting together and standing exactly where he needed to go. There's no way he'd make it out unseen. An unpleasant thought occurred to him.   
  
    His head swung back toward the window Candace had climbed through only a couple of hours ago.   
  
\-------  
  
    _THUD!_  
  
    Sam bit back a yell as he landed heavily on his feet, collapsing to the ground and cradling his side. He'd lost his grip on the trellis, so he didn't quite make the entire climb down from the second story. "Ohhh, son of a..." He hissed through his teeth and lifted Alex's pajama shirt to inspect his bandage. He looked alright for now, but he was sure he'd pulled some stitches. He glared at the trellis, as if it were somehow its fault that he'd fallen.   
  
    "Al...?" he whispered as he pulled himself up, gazing through the night for the Italian admiral. No such luck. "Damn it. Where the hell is he...?" Where was a hologram when you needed one? That did it, Al was on his list now. They wouldn't be in half this mess if it weren't for him.   
  
    Sam shook his head and trudged toward the Killian house, noticing a window leading to the basement. Thinking Mr. Killian might bring the young woman there, he shuffled onto his hands and knees and peered through the dusty glass.   
  
    Two shapes moved together across the room, but all Sam could make out through the dirt and grime were blurred colors. He cupped his hands to the window, as if that would improve his vision, pressing his weight onto the glass.   
  
    Something in the basement fell and broke. Sam startled, the window busted open, and he tumbled inside.  
  
\-------  
  
    Al stamped his foot and shook his head. "Of all the low-down, dirty, _rotten_ things to do...stealing from a kid's piggy bank has to be one of the lowest." He grimaced in disgust and leaned next to the unknowing burglar, blowing holographic smoke directly into his face. The thief was greedily emptying a faded blue piggy bank that had been left on the living room shelf. "They oughta charge you with being heartless and lock you up for a million years!"  
  
    This really galled him. How could someone take advantage of such a nice family? Maybe he was taking it a bit personally. He'd grown attached to the Donovans after following them around all day. They reminded him of the kind of family he always wanted: a complete, chaotic mess, but a mess that loved each other. And they were being robbed by a complete scuzzball.   
  
    He heard the sound of movement from the kitchen, and both hologram and thief turned in surprise. Al's eyes widened. He'd assumed from the missing vehicle out front that the Donovans were all out, but evidently someone was still home.   
  
    The man took out a gun, and Al's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He'd really blown it on this one!  
  
    Hoping to beat the burglar, Al jogged through the kitchen door and his heart sank. Little Freddy stood in the kitchen, rearranging the number and letter magnets on the fridge. He grinned when he saw his new friend phase into the room. "Hi, Al!"  
  
    "Shh shh shh, keep it down!" Al whispered urgently, glancing back and stooping down next to the little boy. "Freddy, what're you doing here? Where's your parents?"  
  
    "The movies."  
  
    "What?" Al asked with alarm, "Who's watching you?"  
  
    "Lacey..." the boy responded quietly, frightened of Al's tone. He hugged his lizard to him.  
  
    Al looked heartbroken. He forced himself to calm his voice. "Oh, I'm sorry, Freddy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. But you need to listen up, okay? This is important Imaginary Friend Business." Freddy nodded, and Al gave an encouraging grin. "Good boy." He looked back at the door again. The only other exit led outside. He licked his lips and returned his attention to Freddy.  
  
    "We're gonna play a game, Freddy. You like games?" Freddy nodded excitedly. "Good. Me too. We're gonna play Cops and Robbers. And right now, there's a robber in the next room." He pointed to the door, and the little boy looked on with big eyes. "So what I need you to do is follow me, so we can get this very nice lady to call the cops to come get him. Understand?" Freddy thought for a moment, then nodded again. Al smiled. "That's great Freddy. First we gotta go outside."   
  
\-------  
  
    "Thanks. Ow!" Sam winced as he placed an ice pack to his side, feeling pretty foolish. He was seated in a chair in the basement, being stared at by two amused bystanders to his ungraceful break-in. Oliver Killian finished sweeping up the broken jar from the floor, and the blonde woman played with her peace necklace.   
  
    "So what you're telling me is, all of this..." Sam motioned toward the bones, the jars, and the other macabre items. "...is some sort of art project?"  
  
    "No no no," Oliver insisted pretentiously, "It's not just _art_. It's _performance_ art. It means something _deeper_. There's a _message_."  
  
    "Which is...?" Sam stared in confusion at a can of red paint, and the cow skull resting on top of it. Beside that, a crude statue stretched its arm toward him through a plastic bag.  
  
    "That violence isn't the answer!" the woman piped in passionately, "Our kids are being sent off to war, and what are we learning? Nothing, man! So this is our way of protesting, of getting the word out there." She and Oliver smiled proudly at each other.   
  
    "We didn't kill anybody, if that's what you're getting at," Oliver said with a smirk. Sam grinned sheepishly.  
  
    "I don't know what to say. I feel like an idiot."  
  
    "Not as big of an idiot as _I_ feel like right now!"   
  
    Sam jerked his head to see Al in the room now, shifting antsily. "Al?"  
  
    "Who?" questioned Killian.  
  
    "Sam, we blew it!" Al yelled in a panic, "The thing you leaped in to stop isn't here, it's at the Donovan's! And if you don't get over there right now, someone's gonna get shot!" He waved his arms frantically toward the wall. Immediately, Sam started to get up.   
  
    "Hey, take it easy," the blonde said, "Where are you going?"  
  
    "Can I use the phone?"  
  
    "No, Sam, the cops are already on the way! You gotta get moving now!" Al ran through the wall again and disappeared.   
  
    "Never mind," Sam said quickly, traipsing toward the window, "I don't have time to explain. Sorry I thought you were a murderer!" As he struggled to crawl out, a confused Oliver gave him an extra push onto the grass outside. "Thanks a lot!" Sam winced, and he hobbled off toward the Donovan house.  
  
\-------  
  
    Lordy, he was out of shape. After running back and forth from house to house, Al was panting for breath. This leap sure was giving him a workout! He scoped the living room, but the burglar was gone. Where'd that nozzle go? He began to search the house.   
  
    Bingo. The slimeball was raiding the kitchen, having found a coffee can stuffed with cash on top of the fridge. He was preoccupied for now, which meant Al had time to tell Sam to warn Lacey and get her out of there.   
  
    That was the plan, anyway. The door opened. "Freddy, are you--?" Al spun around in shock, and the burglar pulled out his gun again. Lacey stood frozen in fear in the doorway.  
  
    "Lacey! Lacey, get out of here!" Al shouted helplessly.   
  
    The burglar fired just as Sam came barreling into Lacey, toppling the two of them to the ground.  
  
    Al watched through his fingers. "Sam! Thank god! Uh-oh!" The burglar pointed his gun at the two of them on the floor. "Sam! Sam, you gotta get up!"   
  
    Sam groaned and tried to move, but he'd _definitely_ pulled more than a few stitches this time. Through pain-bleared eyes, he could see the gun being aimed at him, and he prepared for the worst.  
  
    Something barked and snarled, and Buddy came bounding in, clamping his jaws around the burglar's wrist. The gun dropped uselessly to the ground as the thief yelled in pain. Al threw his hands triumphantly in the air. "Atta boy, Buddy! Atta boy!"  
  
    This was the lucky break Sam needed. He slid over to the gun and grabbed it, aiming it at the man who was still struggling with the dog. "It's over!" Sam yelled. The man froze, and Buddy backed away, licking his chops and sitting loyally next to Al.   
  
    Al smiled proudly. "Good dog."  
  
\-------  
  
    "You were so brave yesterday, Freddy," Al said with a big smile, once again on bended knee next to the little boy. The family was crowded into the living room around Lacey as she shared her exciting story with them. Freddy, apparently bored with the story, was playing by himself in the corner when Al had arrived to visit him. "You did a good job playing that game with me. I'm real proud of you."  
  
    Freddy smiled shyly again, ducking his head. He picked up a familiar wooden duck and held it up to show off to Al.   
  
    "What's that, Freddy? Oh that's nice." Al leaned his head to the side to look at it. "Did that nice lady from yesterday give it to you?" Freddy nodded yes. "That was really kind of her. I bet she'd like it if you visited her again. Don't you think?"   
  
    After a moment of thought, Freddy bobbed his head again. "I like her," he said happily.  
  
    "I like her too, Freddy," Al said with a grin.  
  
\-------  
  
    Yet again on this leap, Sam found himself tucked away in Alex's bed. After fudging his way through an explanation about his harrowing adventure last night, and some painful re-stitching of his incision, he'd been sent to bed with strict orders from his parents to stay put. Of course, these orders were also said through several more embarrassing hugs and kisses from a frazzled Mrs. Donnell.   
  
    Sam couldn't be too upset, considering the turnout of events. Oliver Killian wasn't a murderer and Lacey Donovan was alive. And outside, he could see Candace and her father driving down the street, talking and laughing. It seemed like Candace had given her father a second chance after all.  
  
    "Looks like you saved everyone and Tiny Tim on this one, Sam," Al said from beside the bed. The two of them watched the car turn down the road.   
  
    Sam smirked at him. "Well you helped a little."   
  
    Al shrugged dismissively. He shifted his weight to his other leg. "I just wish I knew why you haven't leapt," he said, depressed, "We still can't access Ziggy's databanks, and Gooshie's runnin' out of ideas. I don't know how we're gonna fix this one, Sam." He shoved his hands in his pockets and fell into despondent silence.   
  
    A brief pause. Sam furrowed his brows as something suddenly hit him. "A63...J...900...428."  
  
    "Huh?"   
  
    "That's the security code," Sam answered, surprised at himself.   
  
    Al blinked and took out the handlink. "What was that again?" Sam repeated the numbers, and Al plonked them into the handlink. "You getting this, Gooshie?" He waited, and then he looked at Sam, stunned. "I can't believe it! It worked! How the hell did you remember that?!"  
  
    Sam furrowed his brows, thought for a moment, and then laughed. He held his side again, but it didn't kill his good mood. He grinned at Al. "It was on the fridge."  
  
    "What?"  
  
    "At the Donovans. The magnets on the fridge. It was the code!"   
  
    Al went white with disbelief as he remembered Freddy playing with the magnets the night before. He clapped his hand to his head. "How the hell did _that_ happen?”  
  
    He stared at Sam, dumbfounded, who simply smiled back at him and leaped.


End file.
